adelphoi | (no subject)

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[ being in insomnia again is.. strange. the city is the same as she had remembered, and yet so different, so strange after so many long years in tenebrae. this city seems so enormous and sprawling, sharp and stark in comparison, bright and chrome and full of people. though she remembers her time here, her earliest years, she was still quite young when her parents swept she and her brother back to the motherland, and those tender years of growth had been spent in a city very different, a home that she had grown used to, settled into.

and now they are here again, political tensions spurring her father to emigrate here, to lucis again. the empire has been still and quiet, and there have even been talks of treatise, but alisaie trusts her father's judgment, for all his political involvement. more than national pride, he hopes for his family to be safe and secure, and short of living in the bush, insomnia had seemed to him the ideal location. with the wall so strong, such a city must be impenetrable, yes?

alisaie does not know the details of it all, her father would disclose only so much - she and her brother were to focus solely on their studies, bettering themselves, and not to worry about such things outside of their control. lucis might not be a large nation, but insomnia is safe, and secure. it suits their needs just fine.

still, settling in, for alisaie, is not necessarily easy. unlike the rest of her family, smooth-talkers with political savvy, she has a hard enough time simply getting along with her own peers. her friends in tenebrae had been few and distant, their relationships thin and civil but little more. to have to start over again is.. a nightmare. but she is not here to make friends, she is here to finish her schooling, to graduate and prepare for university and beyond. there's nothing to be afraid of.

yet her knuckles are white around the books clutched to her chest as she climbs the stairs that first day, eyes forward, chin high, and it takes less than a week's time for her to earn a reputation as a haughty, conceited little snob, the little rich girl sort who is far too good to waste her time with those she deems beneath her - everyone, apparently. this is not entirely the case of course, but it suits alisaie's needs just fine. let them think what they want, so long as it affords her a wide berth and quiet time to herself, without the terrifying distraction of working her way into, and maintaining her place within, a social circle.

the weekend seems to take an eon to arrive, but friday is here at last. alisaie sits outside at a table on campus, alone, peeling the crusts distractedly from her sandwich, her advanced chemistry textbook open in front of her. three afternoon classes, and this horrible week will be over.. ]

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[ for all it aches, it still feels wonderful. he's a good kisser, a good lover, he always has been, and it's been all too easy to fall right back against him, to taste his mouth and touch his skin and lose herself in the feel of it. his shirt comes off, her hands glide over his skin, over the new muscle and scars that she's already learned, and a low whine rumbles in her throat, her body tightening with need.

but then he's pulling back - not to press her down into the sheets, or kiss down her throat or shoulders or anything else, but to pause. bewildered, she sits back in his lap, her hands on his shoulders. by rote, her thumbs glide gently along his jaw with quiet concern that she hardly realizes she's giving. this, too, has come back slowly, in drips and drabs, little moments where she is.. softer than she would like to be, moments where she isn't thinking enough to stop herself. ]

What? What's wrong?

[ She doesn't press him to continue — not yet, at least, and there's almost a note of...concern in her voice. No, it must be something more like confusion, but still he follows the movement of her thumb, leaning into her touch without a second thought. For all that this feels wrong, that...that does not.

It takes him a moment longer to speak, to find his voice again, to not just let this go on, because he wants her. But he can't keep this up. It is eroding his heart, and hers, too. It has to end.

He finds her eyes in the darkness. ]

I can't...I can't keep doing this. I-I'm...I'm sorry.

What?

[ wait. is he doing this now, while they're half undressed and all worked up, while she's sitting astride his godsdamned half-hard lap, and now he says this?

not that she shouldn't have expected it. this is what he does, isn't it? he gets what he wants, and cute her loose. she had thought it different this time, thought that she was the one in control, that all of this was on her terms, but still, it.. stings.

it shouldn't. this was purely physical. it was not meant to be more. ]

Right. Of course.

[ she says, her voice gone hard and her hands dropping. red-faced and riled, she climbs up and off of him without another breath, yanking her coat down from the chair again. ]

I should have known.

[ She doesn't protest, but gives him no sign that she agrees, either, that this needs to stop. Granted...his timing could have been better, but he wasn't sure until they were in the heat of it, getting worked up, and it still felt wrong. Even now, he's not sure he's done the right thing. Or, rather, the thing he wants more.

But then she's up, pulling away from him, anger rolling off her in waves, and while he can't blame her, he can't just...let her go, either. He can't let her walk out of his life completely. Not again. ]

P-please, wait. Alisaie, please.

[ He reaches, gently, for her wrist. ]

[ keenly, she is reminded of another encounter, another time, long ago when the world was different. she'd reached out to him then - please, she had all but begged, but he had shrugged her off, pushed her away, broken her heart. she might feel vindicated, being on the other side, but she doesn't. it only stings.

she shouldn't wait. she should wrench her arm away and go, leave all of this behind her for good as she should have from the beginning. she'd known she would regret it when she pulled him into her tent that night, and she had known it every time since, yet still she allowed it to happen again and again and again. always, with him, she makes of herself a great fool..

swallowing thickly, she hesitates against her better judgment, though her arm is stiff and tense beneath his hold. ]

What now?

[ He doesn't hold it back now, instead letting his aching loneliness rain over him in droves, a sob shaking loose from him before he is able to speak again. This is his one chance before he loses her for good, but if he's honest with himself, he knows he's already lost her. She was never found to begin with. Not since the day he willingly broke her heart and threw away everything that they had together.

But still, he has to try. He has do whatever he can to show her his heart, the real him, the one she knows, deep inside herself. ]

I-I — I'm not ready to lose you again.

[ this isn't necessarily.. surprising. he's shed a few tears since they reunited, some that she saw, others he thought she did not, but never had she taken them particularly seriously. it was just one more manipulation, wasn't it? one more way to keep her near, to stay up her skirt, so she had tried to pay them no mind.

she tries the same now, but finds it is not so easy. it was such a mistake, letting him near again, allowing him to wriggle his way beneath her skin and begin to rouse all of those old feelings she'd thought she'd shed long ago.

maybe this is a blessing in disguise, that he's cutting her loose now, when she's far too close to caving to something she's been holding off for too long. something she'd so brazenly, pridefully believed she had been in control of when in truth it had been an illusion. still, she balks at his words, because what in the world is he saying? ]

Then what is it you want from me?

[ she's given all she can. if he doesn't want her for sex, what could he possibly desire from her? ]

I — I —

[ What does he want from her?

He still remembers so well the first time they met, when she had chased bullies off him at the playground, and placed a band-aid on his elbow, and told him she would protect him. No one...had ever made an effort for him like that before. One they were not obligated to make. She had been his first friend, his first and only lover. He has been in love with her his entire life, and even now, after they have suffered so much and stand in the wreckage of what was once their relationship, he's certain, if he could just burn away the brambles around her heart, there might be a way...

This isn't over yet. It can't be. ]

I just want to talk to you, Alisaie! We've been at this for months, and you won't even hold a conversation with me! I know I can't change the past. I know that even if I explain myself, you won't want to hear it. But please, just talk to me!

[ His eyes plead with her as much as his voice, imploring her to hear him, to really hear him, his heart that she once and understood so well, better than anyone ever has. ]

[ for a few moments she's stunned into silence. she doesn't expect what he says, but she also does not expect the ferocity in his tone. prompto might have used her up and tossed her aside but he's never really displayed any sort of temper, and while this still is quite cool in comparison to what she can put out there, it's enough still to surprise her, and knock her off-guard.

but soon enough she recovers. ]

Talk to me? Why? What is there to talk about?

[ she does not leave him yet, but she jerks back her hand from his grasp, her expression a hard scowl. ]

There is nothing to discuss. It is very simple - if this isn't something you are interested in, then it's over.

No, it's not simple, and it's not over. It's never been over! Not...not for me.

[ He voice trembles along with his hands, but he doesn't back down. Not this time. This conversation is months, if not years overdue, everything he's wanted to say to her rising past his lips at last. If she walks out that door now, she'll walk out of his life forever. That he is sure of, and that he has to do everything in his power to keep from happening.

What would he do, knowing she's out there, but never speaking to her again? The thought is unbearable.

And so he fights, pleads, his nails biting into his palms, begging her to hear him, to really hear him. ]

I've been in love with you for my entire life. You were my first friend, the first person who saw me as someone worth caring about, and you... gave me hope like no one else ever made. You gave me a reason. A part of me has been broken ever since the day we broke up, part of me that aches every single day, and when I thought you died, I...I almost lost myself. I know I can never ask you to take me back, but please, just...let me be your friend. Give me a chance. Please. I...

[ He sucks in a sharp, shuddering breath. ]

I never wanted to leave you. I never wanted to hurt you...I love you, Alisaie. I-I always have.

[ i always have.

alisaie feels her heart leap up into her throat, her gut tightening. what? what is he saying? what is he talking about? wide-eyed, she stares into his face openly for several long seconds, vainly attempting to make sense of.. whatever it is she is hearing.

that cannot be right. ]

What.. what sort of game are you playing at, Prompto?

[ she says with her customary bite, though there is an unsteady undercurrent beneath it, her voice less sure, less assured. he seems so genuine, but how can she possibly believe him? how can she believe anything? ]

Do you - do you enjoy playing with me? Do you get some sort of sick kick from it?

Do I look like I'm enjoying myself right now?

[ A biting remark for a biting remark, and perhaps it isn't fair of him to be bitter. No — of course it isn't. But he's been well aware of the dynamic in their relationship throughout these meetings of theirs. It isn't just that she sought pleasure from him, but control, also. A chance to do to him what she thinks he did to her. And it rips his heart to pieces, to think that she's felt nothing through all these encounters, that she's doing it because she believes he betrayed her heart.

What a mess they are. Is he even doing the right thing, in trying to get through to her?

But the alternative is absolute. This is the only shot he has. ]

The person I was that day. The day we broke up. Please, think back, remember, and look into my eyes, and tell me you really think that that's the person I am.

[ She knew his heart better than anyone. She tried so hard to stop him that day, thought he was playing around then, too. It's no wonder she struggles to believe him, but she can't really believe that was the real him, can she? After everything they went through together? ]

Please. You know who I really am. I know you do.

[ He reaches, oh so carefully, to draw a fingertip over her cheekbone. ]

[ it's strange and alarming to hear him speak in such a tone, enough to take her aback once more - she'd expected him to back down as he always does, but he doesn't.

uncertainty begins to scratch at the corners of her mind, filling her with doubt. maybe he.. is telling the truth. what if he is? what if she's been mistaken this entire time? but no, no - she can't be. he purposefully broke her heart, ground it down, left her behind. why would he have said such terrible things to her if he did not mean them? what other purpose would there be? he had never attempted to make amends in the time after, before the crown city fell, and he had never attempted to find her, after. what he claims seems.. fanciful. ridiculous.

but still she cannot help but think on it, on what he is saying, how she knows the person that he is, how she knows his heart..

she jerks away from his touch, as if it has burned her. ]

I - I thought I knew, once.

[ she thought she knew now, too, those times she allowed herself to feel more between their trysts. but no - ]

But I cannot believe a word out of your mouth. I've no reason to.

[ she's heard enough. tugging her coat quickly over her shoulders, alisaie snags her boots by the door and jerks the door open, her heart pounding, her ears ringing, an ache sinking into her bones. ]

Goodbye, Prompto.

[ She's still going. He's pleaded with her, begged her, fought with her, and yet, she still pulls away from him, jerking away, grabbing her things and turning to go, telling him goodbye. He's tried his damnedest to get her to give him a second chance, to convince her, and still it's not enough.

No, no.

A sound so deeply sorrowful and aching tears from him, like a wounded animal that has received a fatal blow. He doesn't chase after her. There's no point. He can never take back what he said that day, and that's it. She will never trust him again. It's over, and this time, she's walking out of his life for good.

Instead, he sinks down onto the floor, knees drawn up to his chest, his head buried against his arms, his sobs carrying on the wind outside the still-open door. With her departure, something in him...fractures in a way it hasn't before, and the muted hope he'd held onto ever since he'd found out she was alive flickers out completely. She will never love him again. He will always be alone.

And that's...the end of it. ]

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